I haven’t done a column in a while; since before Officer Brenton was murdered in Seattle, which of course was followed by the murder of four Lakewood officers and then the death of Deputy Mundell in Pierce County. I have avoided writing anything about the events of the last two months because I don’t have anything profound or illuminating to say, and anything less would be trite. To paraphrase Abraham Lincoln, any attempt to say something intelligent is “far above our poor power to add or detract.” Now that we have entered the new (and hopefully quieter) year, I won’t attempt to be profound but I will share a few related comments and reflections.
In 24 years in law enforcement I have never seen anything quite like this. Officer deaths occur, but are infrequent. Not only the frequency and scope, but the acts themselves are overwhelming. The attacks were not just on the officers, or the department, or the profession, but on the community. The cold-blooded murder of Officers Brenton, Richards, Griswold, Owens, and Renninger was an attack on civilized society, and it crossed a line. The astounding outpouring of emotion and support that followed, up to and including the response to the death of Deputy Mundell was in part because of that attack on society itself. It is jarring and upsetting and shakes our collective beliefs.
In the past two months, we have seen public reaction which has occasionally included calls for some sort of action to “solve” this problem. Some of these ideas are worth exploring and discussing, but we really should not attach them to the loss of these officers. Banning guns, having more guns, reducing or increasing mental health treatment, making more laws - none of these, by themselves, will solve the problem. In our society, the interplay between personal rights and public safety is just too complex, and there are no simple answers.
Here in Kent, we received countless cards and flowers at the department, and almost every officer has a story about someone here in Kent approaching them in a store or on a call, saying how much they appreciate their department and feel the loss of the officers. We are all deeply appreciative of the support of those we serve.
After the past two months and attending too many funerals, I can offer only three observations that, I hope, will help us find some context.
First, one of our Kent Sergeants, right after the Lakewood shootings, was meeting with his group of officers and of course, lengthy discussion of the incident and our opinions followed. This Sergeant is a top-notch police instructor, SWAT officer, and expert in officer safety. Rather than focus only on caution and staying safe, he ended his briefing by assigning the officers a very specific mission: pair up, go to a coffee shop, and talk to our residents. They want to talk to us as much as we need to talk with them. It’s easy for us to underestimate just how many truly good people there are all around us, but these tragic events brought that all out and made it abundantly clear.
Second, another observation was that the funerals for each of these officers, while formal and ceremonial and respectful, focused not on their heroism and their sacrifice, but rather on their humanity. Each funeral highlighted their families and funny stories about their jobs. There was no deification of anyone, only highlights of real people who had real experiences and faults. They were human beings who loved their jobs and did the best they could. Police officers are not good at drawing attention to themselves, and the basic humanity of each officer was what I really understood.
One of the most salient observations for me was that in every instance, the families of these fallen officers did not engage in any kind of blame, anger, or hostility. It would be understandable if all of us wanted to focus on those who committed these acts, but the fact is, they weren’t even part of the discussion at the memorials. Each funeral was about celebrating good people who lived worthwhile lives. There was no recrimination or self-pity. The funerals and memorials were not sad at all; they were recognition of people who lost their lives too soon, doing what they loved.
Finally, I came away thinking about the strong message that came from the children of Officer Greg Richards, who started his career right here at the Kent Police Department. Their message was simple. Greg was a good dad, and the best way to honor him, and each of the officers who gave their lives, is be a better mom or dad. Be a better sister or brother, a better son or daughter. Be a better friend.
Have a great week!
-Steve
Reprinted with permission from and thanks to the Kent PD
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